


Homecoming

by thatssosnickerdoodle



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Ghost Sex, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28089864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatssosnickerdoodle/pseuds/thatssosnickerdoodle
Summary: Takes place upon Spike's arrival in Wolfram & Hart. Buffy pays a visit to Angel, only to discover the ghost of a not-so-undead lover haunting his ass.
Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers
Kudos: 41





	Homecoming

“In here, Buf- Miss Summers”

With a frown, Harmony opened the door to the Wolfram & Hart office. Steeling herself, Buffy crossed the threshold and stopped.

Wesley, Angel, and two others – not to mention a green, horned thing with a taste for fashion – watched as her face displayed a whole dictionary of emotions. Shock. Confusion. Pain. Longing. Disbelief. Shock, again. Just the hint of a smile.

“Spike?”

“Buff – “

She ran full tilt, tears streaming, crashing into – Angel?

For a moment, her right hand rested on her old lovers’ face, her left bunched in his silky shirt. “Oi, back here luv.”

Extracting herself from Angel’s shocked embrace, she turned to the spot she had just run through. Slower this time, she reached for Spike’s hand; a mirror of their last moment together in the cave. She watched his face twist in pain as her fingers passed through his. 

“You-“

“It’s him, Buffy. He’s just… well he’s…” Angel’s voice was resigned.

“We don’t really know what he is yet, actually,” said the sweet brunette. She stuck out her hand, “Fred, nice to meet ya.”

“Hi” Buffy said distractedly, eyes still searching for something in Spike.

***

Rinse. Spit. Hair tingle.

Buffy straightened, looking through the mirror to the space behind her. Of course, she should know better by now. She turned to see him standing at the threshold to the bathroom door. Gripping the edge of the sink to stop from throwing her arms around empty air, Buffy closed her eyes.

“Love –“

“Where did you go?”

Spikes eyebrows raised, “Well, actually I ended up inside that amulet, you remember the one that -”

“Not then, I meant just now, when you disappeared from the office before.”

“Oh.” He didn’t seem to want to elaborate on that.

“I love you!” She almost shouted the words.

He looked up at her face.

“I just, I didn’t want you to leave again without… without…” Tears welled in Buffy’s eyes for like the fiftieth time since she arrived in LA.

“Hush, baby.” Spike reached out across what seemed like an infinite space between them, stopping just short of her arm. Looking down at his outstretched arm, Spike withdrew and shoved both hands into his pockets. A defensive stance.

Buffy’s lip quivered. “I want – I wish I could touch you”

“Darling you have no bloody idea.”

They stood like that for a while, eyes boring into one another, until she sighed. Head heavy, Buffy moved past him to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“Looky at this, huh? Executive suite.” Spike whistled low, moving to sit beside her.

“I wasn’t going to stay for long. Willow, Faith, and the others… we’re moving through Europe. There are girls all over. So many confused, alone…”

“How’s the niblet?”

A soft smile played over her lips, “she’s great, she’s seeing the sights. Gotta find a new school for her next semester, on account of the whole ‘alma-mater-getting sucked into hell’ thing. Not like I can relate to that at all.”

Spike chuckled with her. His gaze lingered on her face; in this moment she seemed so… free. They fell into silence once more.

“Spike?”

“Yes, love?”

“I missed you. I mourned you.”

Spike looked back down at his hands. His stupid, bloody, incorporeal hands. Ever so slowly, he reached over to where her own hands lay on her knee. He brushed against her, feeling nothing.  
“Buffy,” he sighed. 

Slowly, she raised her hand, his following like a shadow behind, and touched her lips to her own skin. 

Despite himself, Spike let out a low moan. 

She paused, her mouth still at her hand. “I wish –“

“Hush, baby.”

And she melted. Hand roving over her face, she pushed back against the headrest.

Buffy watched, and followed his ghostly hand down her body, copying his empty ministrations to her neck, the edge of her shirt. Spike breathing hard (despite needing breath even less now than he used to), skipped across her neckline as he drew himself above her.

Through the haze, Buffy managed a light chuckle. “Spike, this is –“

“Still not weirder than us getting it on while you were invisible, love.”

She let out a breath that could have been a laugh, and reached up to pull her shirt over her head. Spike moved his head to the side and caught his tongue at the roof of his mouth.  
“Love. You kill me.”

Eyes on his, Buffy reached back to unhook her bra, baring herself to him, as his hands roamed her skin. She raised her own hands to her breasts. Pinching pulling, squirming beneath her lover.

“Yeah Buffy, be a good girl and show me what you want.”

Reaching down to kick off her skirt and panties, she bit her lip and gazed up at him, all eyelashes and full cheeks. “I want you.”

She followed his ghostly caresses over her hips, her waist, the swell of her breasts. Their hands slid down her belly, fingers spreading over her tight curls. 

“Love, you are soaking.”

She moaned at his words, pressing a finger to where she needed the relief. 

“Good thing I’ve always been a talker, huh?”

She hummed a reply, rubbing at her clit and clenching the sheets. Slipping one finger into herself, she closed her eyes, willing her imagination to tell her the sensation was cold. She opened her eyes again, gasping at the look on his face, the love in his eyes, the focused set of his mouth. 

“Give it good, love, you know I would.”

She pushed another finger inside and began to move on her own hand. Squirming underneath his looming form, she reached up to brush her hair away from her face. She settled her free hand once more against her lips and moaned, holding his eyes as he dropped down to kiss her. 

“You’re breathtaking, Buffy. I want to put my mouth on those hot little tits.”

Giving her fingers a long, slow lick, she traced her hand back down to her breast. The cold air marked the skin of her chin, her neck, her chest, just like the feel of his cold lips. Buffy caught her nipple between her fingers and clenched on her own hand.

“That’s it, Slayer. Fuck yourself on your hand. Imagine my cock spreading you open, pounding into you.”

Her hand picked up the pace, moving in and out of her cunt as she lifted her hips from the bed. 

“Come for me, Slayer.”

Still pistoning in, out, in, out, Buffy reached down to apply pressure to her clit. At the moment of contact she shattered, stilling on her hand and freezing with her hips in mid air.

“I’ve got you baby, I’m here.”

Buffy lowered herself back down to the mattress and slowly withdrew her hands, wincing at the pull against her sensitive flesh. Her breathing was starting to slow, but the tears were coming in hard.

“Spike.”

“Hush, I’m here, I’m here.” Spike lowered to her side, making no imprint on the mattress.

Buffy sobbed. Hard. She drew her arms around her naked waist and curled beside Spike’s incorporeal form. 

“We’ll get through this, Buffy. Somehow I know it’s all going to be okay.”

He stayed with her through the night, curled alongside her in a poor imitation of that final night together, wishing he could feel the rise and fall of her breath against his chest.


End file.
